


Make This Chaos Count

by Analinea



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Christmas, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Magic, Minor Canon character death, Summer Wars fusion, can be read without summer wars knowledge, massive Hale family, some minor angst, virtual fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 02:12:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12973461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Analinea/pseuds/Analinea
Summary: Stiles' avatar is possessed by an evil AI and he's Derek's fiancé for the week-end --Christmas is just full of surprises.





	Make This Chaos Count

**Author's Note:**

> I adapted the characters (let me tell you it was a pain in the ass) but I couldn't include everyone I wanted in this :( so for the record, Allison and Lydia are someone's girlfriends (or maybe each other's), Mason is Liam's future best friend, Erica and Boyd are in a relationship and friends with probably Isaac, and I'm probably forgetting some people again...
> 
>  
> 
> **As I said on tumblr: Merry Christmas originfire! I hope you'll enjoy this!**

– _the probe collected every sample it needed for the team of scientists waiting_ –

 

Stiles leans on the colorfully tiled wall of the Nonexistent Train Station, watches the big TV on mute play old footage of the MAG3 launch. Subtitles make up for the lack of sound, and Stiles reads avidly. Any other time and he would gush over the mosaics decorating Beacon Hills' station.

 

– _and is expected to come back at the end of this week at the international_ –

 

Arms crossed, Stiles now only half focuses on the report that shows the construction of said probe, side to side with a picture of the mixed team of scientists and magists that worked on this new generation of satellites; traditional rocket propellant and spells, Sparks+ coding. It's been said that magic's just science that we don't understand yet.

 

– _the findings could be a massive breakthrough in the_ –

 

The other half of Stiles' brain is thinking about the test he'll pass at the end of the holidays. If he's successful, he'll be Deaton's apprentice -officially anyway. It's a lifelong dream that would come true.

Doing basic maintenance for Oz with Sparks is awesome, but it just isn't enough. Stiles wants to be a magist -why not even in emissary business if he finds a good Pack- not just a code-speller; even if it's for Oz: the social media platform so universal, immersive and clever that it's used for private life and business alike all over the world by almost everyone.

 

– _completed the mission so far without a single issue_ –

 

Both magic and astronomy lead Stiles to think of his mother ( _one day, sweetheart_ ), a practitioner as they called it back in the days when it wasn't recognized like now. ( _one day, you'll see_ )

In her good days (as far and few as the stars they watched together, the empty spaces between points of light stretching just like the universe, until–) she taught him some kid-friendly spells. Stiles doesn't really like to think about what he learned in her bad days.

On screen, a blurry picture of MAG3 taken just before it went out of range is shown.

( _the sky will come and meet you_ )

 

.oO°Oo.

 

There's a world between Derek asking, “Would you work for me during the holidays?” and Derek, sitting in front of his great-grandmother and gesturing at Stiles, saying, “Anyway, he's my fiancé.”

Nana, ninety-fifth like only shifters and rare humans can be, turns impassively to Stiles and narrows her eyes from behind her small glasses. Despite it all, she's still old and frail looking. Stiles is beyond terrified of her, and he met her only two minutes ago.

 _Warrior blood_ is what one of Derek's aunt said on the bus ride, right? _One of the oldest supernatural families_ and _still a lot of powerful relations in both worlds_.

Stiles gulps audibly. It suddenly makes an awful lot of sense that Derek played lie-to-the-shifter back in the train. It's also horribly convenient that Nana is so scary, because it'll ironically help cover the lie and hopefully avoid Stiles the painful fate of being killed by an enormous family of various creatures.

Curse Derek to hell and back -figuratively- because as much as he wants to -that massive crush isn't going away any time soon- Stiles isn't even Derek's _boyfriend_.

He should have made Derek write down a contract for them both to sign, because this withholding of vital information is both very much not cool and totally something he would sue Derek for. Failure to assist a person in danger. And yes, Stiles knows it doesn't work like that, his dad is the Sheriff.

The careful tilt of Nana's head brings Stiles back to the stressful present -pun maybe intended- it's _Christmas_ heh. “Stiles...,” she says, but it's not a question or a call, it's testing the name. “Are you man enough to take good care of Derek?”

“Uh,” Stiles states intelligently. He glances at Derek who is sitting straight - _straight,_ got it? Stiles never pretended to have a subtle sense of humor- blankly staring at a point behind his great-grandmother. “Yes?” Stiles answers, not sure what he's really agreeing to with that one word.

Nana's steely gaze only intensifies, now from over the rim of her glasses. “Man enough to die for him?”

Terms and conditions are important, exhibition A. Stiles tries to lick his lips but his mouth is dry as the Sahara. Then he huffs and pulls himself back together. He squares his shoulders and determinedly announces, “I am.” Even the best shifter wouldn't be able to detect a lie in the statement.

So maybe he has more than a crush on Derek. Who allows himself a small surprised glance Stiles' way.

A second of tense silence later, and Nana relaxes with a smile. Suddenly, she's not the iron-handed head of a powerful supernatural family but a nice grandma. Stiles feels himself deflate. “Good for you,” she says before turning to Derek and adding, “Lucky boy.”

Stiles decides not to analyze that last part and lets himself leans back in his chair, vaguely following Derek and Nana's game. He has no idea what it is they're playing but he doesn't really care. He feels like he just passed the most difficult test of his life, and seeing his level of worry about Deaton's exam, it's saying something.

 

“What the hell, dude?” Stiles whispers shouts. “I can't do this! Why did you– how– why?” he cries out. “It won't work! Valerie _knows me_!”

“Calm down,” Derek breathes out, crossing his arms on his chest, “Valerie is...,” he glances up before deciding on, “kinda in on it.” Which isn't merely as reassuring as he surely thinks it is. “And you just have to...,” Derek shrugs, “sit and eat. It's the easiest job ever.”

Stiles stares at Derek incredulously for a few seconds. Stiles wishes it was the easiest job ever. Frankly he'd rather have to wash the dishes for the whole three days.

“Are you out of your mind?” Stiles lets out in a high pitched whine. “I don't know if you're aware, but your whole family has _super senses_! I don't have kryptonite on me!”

Derek raises an eyebrow at Stiles lamely timed reference, then goes back to a neutral expression as if remembering that Stiles is actually doing him a big favor right now. “Look, not all of them are weres,” he tries, only making Stiles blink in disbelief, “and we just have to pretend we're not big on PDA.”

The raise in tone at the end of the sentence proves that even Derek isn't _that_ sure about his own plan. So Stiles has to take this into his own hands before it all– wait no, Stiles is totally calling this off. Even though the PDA thing could work, based on Derek's personality.

“Derek. I haven't dated anyone in my entire life,” Stiles reasonably points to himself, “I can't just pretend to be your _fiancé_ ,” he points at Derek. He's about to open his mouth to put a stop to this, but Derek uncrossing his arms stalls Stiles long enough for him to deliver the killing blow.

“Listen, um. I just don't want to disappoint Nana. She's–” he stammers out, “she's sick and I told her I would bring my boyfriend for Christmas, so...” Derek is looking down, shoulders raised like he's preparing for a physical blow. Stiles can only gape. And sigh in defeat.

“Okay,” he says softly. Derek looks up abruptly, showing his surprise at Stiles easy change of mind. When he finds no lie, he smiles and steals Stiles breathe away. He's so goddamn gorgeous when he's happy.

This is such a bad idea, but how can Stiles say no now?

At least, he consoles himself, no one will hear any lie when he has to say how much he loves Derek.

 

Lunch comes around right when the morning chaos dies down a fraction. To the exception of some of the in-laws, every one has arrived; but Stiles hasn't met anyone yet aside from Nana and the aunt that was with Valerie on the bus ride. He just spent the remaining hours of the morning on the phone with Heather who had laughed and laughed at his situation like the awful best friend she is.

Stiles focuses on the mayhem at the table. For all he can talk, Stiles isn't used at all to being around that many people, and that makes him strangely shy.

“Derek!” someone calls, “why don't you introduce us to your _fiancé_?” The word is drawled suavely, making Stiles blush furiously.

“That's bullshit! Derek can't have a fiancé!” a young blond spits, earning him a slap on the back of the head as well as a lot of laughs.

“Jackson is jealous!” one of the kids sing-songs, making Jackson half raise himself from his chair to point at the kid threateningly. The kid only laughs.

Derek impassively turns to Stiles while various conversations continue at the table. “So, you've met Nana,” he points to the other end of the table, where the woman sits proudly. She nods at them.

“These are Nana's children, Duke, Clemency, and Jackson.” Stiles blinks in surprise at Jackson's mention as Derek's great-uncle. They must be the same age. Duke laughs and calls, “I love when you call me a Duke, kid!” and someone else answers with, “Duke of Bad Dad-jokes land, Deucalion?”

Derek continues like nothing is happening, “Duke's children are Kali,” badass looking woman that Stiles saw arriving on the coolest motorcycle, “with her wife Julia and their two kids Ethan and Aiden,” the toddler twins that wrecked havoc in the kitchen when Stiles popped his head in earlier to ask if they needed help, “and Ennis,” bald and holy-massively-muscled dude.

Stiles tries to go over the names again in his head, but Derek doesn't give him time.

“Clemency's children are: Talia, my mom,” who nods with as much grace as her own mother and grandmother, “and Noshiko with her husband Ken and their daughter Kira.” All the women are classy in this family apparently, at least in the older generations. Kira, much like her father, waves awkwardly when her name is mentioned before turning back to whoever she was talking to.

“This is my cousin Malia,” another of the youngest kids running around, “and these are my sisters Laura and Cora.” Both lean over the table to playfully punch Stiles on the shoulder -which _hurts_ what the hell he's only human- and Laura adds a “hurt him and I'll hurt you” that is lost in the sea of noise coming from everyone else. Still, Stiles breaks a little sweat at the threat.

At this point, Stiles might remember three-forth of the family already introduced to him. Except, well. Derek isn't finished yet. Stiles wants to knock his head on the table.

“And last but not least, Valerie,” who Stiles knows from the Sheriff's station where she's a deputy, “with Hayden and Liam,” toddler number four and cute tiny baby, “and Melissa with Scott,” crooked smile, “Isaac,” grouchy, scarf-wearing teen, “and Melissa's eaten planet.”

Melissa turns to protest, but she keeps smiling as her hand finds its way to rest of her swollen belly.

“You get all that?”

Stiles blinks.

“Don't pressure your S.O. so much,” Scott laughs and slaps Stiles' shoulder, making him bang into the table. “Sorry,” the guy bashfully says, “still getting the hang of this.”

“Do you even know what S.O. means?” Cora mocks over Stiles assuring Scott that it's okay.

The conversation then veers away from him, thankfully, giving him the time to breathe and get his bearings.

It's overwhelming. It's not just that Stiles is trying to pass for someone he's not in the middle of a family of various creatures that can smell emotions. It's that he's not used to that much noise. That many people.

Back at home, he fills every space with chatter and laughter because he likes and needs to, but even with Heather around they're never that loud. Here, though, there's not a single time for silence; this family is larger than life. Stiles had no idea it was even possible.

He looks at the gigantic Christmas tree the youngest family members are supposed to decorate the next day and feels a sudden spike of melancholy stabbing through his heart.

But he doesn't have time to reflect much longer on past holidays or the fact that he'll go back to an empty house because his dad has the Christmas shift this year; someone taps on his shoulder and suddenly he's pulled into this restless tornado of conversations and laughs.

 

Stiles really thought he got the hang of Derek's family after spending the afternoon with aunts and uncles between the kitchen and the living room, listening to stories and trying to remember all their names and professions.

But then dinner rolls around and turns out there's an uncle that isn't just supposed to join them for the last day like some others, no. Peter turns up directly from the garden while they're eating, and Stiles understands immediately that something's wrong when there's a heavy silence. Cora whispers in his ear _it's Malia's dad_ , but when Stiles looks the kid doesn't even react to her dad's arrival.

Stiles realize that no matter the appearances, every family has its dark secrets. It shouldn't make him feel better; but it does.

Peter is greeted coldly by his mother and grandmother, but they make room for him at the table. The conversations resume like nothing happened, Peter biting sarcasm added to the mix. Stiles immediately hates the man who barely looks his daughter's way and only talks about himself.

Then, Peter glances at Derek, and his smile turns sharp like he's showing his teeth in challenge. Derek goes stiff, and the only thing Stiles can do is grab his hand under the table and pretend it's for show, so the family doesn't get suspicious.

All he can do about Peter once dinner is over is to keep his guard up and stay close to Derek. He spares half his brain to try and understand this freaking weird game that they play two people at a time that involves winning with a combination of a bear that is really a boar, a deer and butterflies.

Needless to say that with Derek playing, Stiles doesn't really memorizes the rules.

 

As Stiles looks up at the ceiling of his borrowed bedroom, he can't stop the tired sadness that pulls at his heart.

It's annoying in a way because up to the moment he was alone, the Christmas spirit of a joyful family gathering had kept him content -Peter popping out of nowhere excluded. But now that he has only his thoughts to keep him company, the temporary good feelings evaporate to leave him...bummed.

It's in part the simple fact that Stiles had not even the slightest idea of what it's like to have that big a family, or that it was possible that they all get along so well.

Stiles has never really angsted about his tiny family of two -three actually, counting Heather- but it's still a little heart-wrenching, witnessing this warmth and joy that reflects in all the painful ways on what that lacks in Stiles' own life.

But the biggest part of Stiles' bad mood, turning into a little bit more pissed-off than miserable by the minute, comes from the conversation that took place at the table, when Derek messed up big time. After dinner, Stiles confronted Derek about it -got in his face in a way Stiles never thought he would with Derek- about spewing off the kind of lies that always makes a bigger lie crumble and fail.

Meaning that when Scott asked where they met, Derek didn't give Stiles enough time to take control of the situation as they agreed beforehand.

So now, Stiles is a computer science major that just got admitted into a Google internship for the semester. And they met at an art exhibition, of fucking course. Never mind that Stiles not only isn't a major in anything, but also doesn't care _at all_ about art.

Thing is, Stiles isn't ashamed of his life; of living with his dad, working at the station until he can be of age to pass Deaton's test. But the simple fact that Derek thought he had to lie for Stiles to be worthy of his family...well it hurts. A lot.

“Knock knock,” a familiar voice comes from the doorway. Stiles looks up to see Valerie, wrapped up in what has to be five different blanket. It's kind of a joke at the station, that she's cold all the time.

Stiles sits up. “Hey.”

“Just wanted to make sure you settled alright,” she smiles. “It's only for two days but...”

Stiles returns the smile and nods. He likes Valerie a lot. “Are you really okay with Derek's...,” Stiles stops himself just before saying _stupid_ , “...plan?”

Valerie chuckles, no doubt having caught the almost slip up and its meaning. “I told him it's a massively bad idea but he's the most hard-headed boy. And famously bad at planning.”

Stiles huffs. “You tell me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Listen,” she adds in a soft tone, “it's a dumb idea, but he really cares about it. Don't be too hard on him, okay?”

Stiles studies her for a moment, seeing genuine worry there. He can't find his voice to say how he can't even think about hurting Derek -and already his anger is slipping away. She must see that somehow, even without the supernatural senses the rest of her family possesses, because she just nods. “Say hi to your dad for me, will you? Good night Stiles.” Before he can open his mouth, she's gone.

Stiles sits there for a moment, starting to shiver from the fresh air that drifts into his bedroom. Since he hates closing his door to sleep, he just decides to call it an early night and burrows deep under the covers. His dad is probably asleep already, so Stiles just writes a short message and watches it be carried away by his simple avatar, swinging the pixelated baseball bat around as he walks.

Just before he can lock the screen to go to sleep though, he gets a text from an unknown number. And, okay, Stiles was almost selected for the United States Magicathlon, as he explained to Derek on the train ride. He knows a riddle-spell when he sees one.

And what does Stiles love as much as the stars and magic?

Mysteries.

 

.oO°Oo.

 

Stiles pads through the dark hallways of this massive house. He would freak out, probably, if it wasn't so well kept that everything seems shiny and new and not as old as it actually is. Because come on: ancient creaky house in an old forest with no one else around for miles right in the middle of the best hidden supernatural territory; if that isn't the beginning of a horror movie, Stiles doesn't know what is.

But instead, the place feels welcoming and safe; even the echoes of the kids laughter can't be creepy. Stiles decides right there and then that he'll enjoy every second of this freshly discovered kind of Christmas. Nothing will get in the way of his good mood again.

Obviously, that's enough to jinx it.

But Stiles doesn't realize it immediately: first, he gets lost in the house -unsurprisingly- and chats for a whole two seconds with Isaac.

“You lost?” the teen asks, scarf well in place over his 'I heart Paris' pajamas and attitude blazing so early in the morning. Still, Stiles swallows back a biting retort at the disdainful tone because for a second there he recognizes the look behind Isaac's eyes. The mistrust.

It makes Stiles glance at the screen out of some investigative reflex, but he can't see anything with the way the teen blocks the view, only hear a vague game soundtrack. “Uh, yeah,” is all he says.

“Bathroom's this way,” Isaac points to the right, “living room is first to the left after that.” Then he turns back to his screen but doesn't do anything else, clearly waiting for Stiles to leave. So he does just that.

He has no idea if anyone else is up yet, other than the kids he can hear running around in the distance, and he would kill for anything resembling any kind of breakfast.

Instead, what he finds is four toddlers standing still in front of the television that displays, despite the black square over the eyes, what clearly is a picture of Stiles himself.

It's Malia and her flippant honesty that turns to him and rudely points a finger at him. “Are you a criminal?” she asks, but Stiles is still trying to understand why the screen reads _Attack on Oz_ and _Still investigating the damage_ while the commentators say something about him being the mastermind behind the operation.

“Busted!” one of the twins yell. Stiles starts to silently freaking out, panic overtaking and throwing him forward to try and shut down the TV while no one has seen anything. That sets off the kids, of course, and they start running and screaming and fighting valiantly for the TV to stay on.

Which is why when Derek walks in, Stiles is on the floor pinned down by children, holding the unplugged TV cord at arms length.

He can't really explain that one.

 

As things go from bad to worse, the thing that warms Stiles' heart is probably that in the end this family that isn't even his but only his fake-future-in-laws doesn't look at him any differently.

Sure, it's quite a mess; and part of that mess isn't even because of Stiles. Well, actually, none of it is because of Stiles.

But rewinding a little: first, there's explaining to Derek and his sisters that Stiles might quite well have caused the downfall of Oz.

They go to Isaac. “Dude!” Stiles exclaims, “ _You're_ King Yitshaq?” On screen, the HD rendering of Oz's fighting ring is displaying a list of people waiting for Isaac to play against them. His avatar -white skinned wolf boy, scarf covering half his face, boxing gloves- is so famous it's even used in some Oz's related advertising. King Yitshaq has been the winner in the hand to hand fighting games this whole year.

“Chill out, fanboy, I'll sign your ass later,” Isaac half grumbles half smirks. Stiles can't even find it in himself to snark back, that's how impressed he is.

“Do I need to remind both of you that Isaac here is a minor?” Laura deadpans with a raised eyebrow -the Hale siblings trademark apparently.

Stiles huffs, then types in an access code for maintenance privileges. Which he's locked out of, no matter how many times he enters the admin password. And he's been trying several times to access his own account too, unsuccessfully.

“Okay,” he breathes out, reminding himself to start regulating his inhales and exhales right now before it starts stuttering and–

“Stiles?” Melissa appears in the doorway, holding out a phone. “A Heather on the phone for you.”

Stiles almost collapses on the ground from sheer relief.

 

“Dude,” Heather cackles, “I wish I could say you just broke the internet but actually this is much, so much better.”

“Heather, you evil witch, bane of my existence, if you keep mocking me I have some materials that don't need Oz to be spread worldwide.”

There's a short silence before Heather sighs. “No fun,” she complains, and Stiles smiles victoriously. “So, there's a short list of people the message was sent to, and by message I mean...,” she pauses while she sends the copy to Isaac, “this is the spell-code protecting Oz.”

“You cracked it?” Isaac asks incredulously.

“Yo, fanboy, wait a minute,” Heather calls from the other side of the phone, “he could've,” she defends because she's still his best friend, “but he actually didn't.”

Stiles both deflates from relief and from disappointment. Then he reminds himself it's bad to feel discomfited because he failed to break Oz.

“Oh, so you're the scapegoat,” Isaac points out.

Stiles doesn't say anything for a while, not even thinking about anything because he can feel the Hale siblings stare and their silence is too heavy for him to bear.

“Say something,” he pleads, he doesn't even know to which one because he's looking at the ground. Even Cora would be good because she's blunt and she might be younger than him but she seems smart and sensible.

“Well...,” Laura starts, “we don't know shit about this stuff, so. What do you need us to do?”

Stiles falls in love a little more with this family at that moment because she doesn't accuse - _what do you want us to do_ , she could've spat out- she offers help instead.

And Stiles' heart breaks a little more because Derek stays stubbornly silent. Stiles runs a hand on his face, through his hair, rests it at the back of his neck.

“I need–” to stop freaking out.

Then a hand is on his and a face is next to his ear and the soft and deep voice of Derek, the one he instantly loved when he heard it outside of the Sheriff's station, says, “Stiles.” He looks up and he sees those green-blue eyes that studied everything so seriously last summer when Derek worked as the station's handyman for two months. “Is there anything you can do?”

In those soft words, Stiles hears that it's okay if there isn't, because in the end this isn't exactly his responsibility. But damn, to keep this look on Derek's face Stiles will try anything. So he nods.

“I can at least try and figure out who's really behind this.”

And Derek smiles. Stiles forgets how to breathe; in a good way. In a very good way.

 

Heather explains that every moderator lost any privileges and was kicked out of Oz. That's when Isaac gets out of the fighting ring and all their eyes widen at the chaos happening behind. It's like a very bad prank war was engaged: virtual buildings misplaced, color dripping everywhere, automatic translators turning rude.

The two guardian whales of Oz, basic programs there for the aesthetic and to give gifts to people when they earn it, are flying around aimlessly, lost.

All Heather can do is create a guest account for Stiles: it doesn't take very long to realize that he's lost his. It must be very funny to his best friend to get him a _squirrel_ avatar.

They don't have to go very far for Stiles to spot his old avatar -but it looks wrong, so wrong, darker, shoulders hunched, and then it turns around and there's fangs and a mad look in its eyes. In its mouth, there's someone else's avatar struggling. It swallows the poor thing. The thing chuckles creepily and suddenly a window pops up.

_Fighting activated. Start in 3...2..._

Heather just has time to yell in the phone, “Battle mode everywhere!” before the avatar attacks.

King Yitshaq pushes Stiles' squirrel to the side and spreads his leg, raises his arms in front of his face to block the punch. The impact sends him flying. Isaac shouts in anger. Yitshaq gets back up.

Stiles is frozen for a second, before he uses the distraction to try and access information on who's controlling his avatar. He still can't figure out why _him_ of all persons, when he's one of those that didn't actually crack the code.

He's so focused on what's happening that he barely registers the Hale siblings getting up and blocking the entrance to the room to other family members who just saw the news. He doesn't hear Laura explain the situation or Jackson's high pitch squeaking about impostors. But he feels Derek sit down next to him and press his shoulder to his.

With the combined efforts of Heather and himself, they pry lose one bit of information.

“It's an AI, not a person!” Heather exclaims.

“It's called...Void?” Stiles frowns.

It's the only thing they have time to get. With a final cry of rage from Isaac, Yitshaq is crushed to the ground. All there is left to do is grab him and flee after distracting Void for a second.

Then, there's silence, and a whole family waiting for an explanation. Stiles doesn't know what's worse.

 

“What were you thinking?” Talia doesn't yell, and that hurts more than if she was. Stiles feels that way after only meeting the woman the night before, so it must be hell for Derek. Well, it is: Stiles is very familiar with the feeling of disappointing a parent. “That Nana would thank you for lying to all of us?”

Valerie is standing silently to the side, already having confessed that she knew about it. She doesn't look contrite at all, and now she steps up. “Talia,” she says softly. There's so much left unsaid behind this single call of a name, and Stiles wishes he could understand this silent language they share. Talia relaxes minutely.

“Okay. It's wrong, and stupid, especially for an adult. But I get it.” Derek raises his head hopefully at his mother's words but doesn't uncross his arms yet. “And I know Nana wasn't supposed to know, not that it makes it alright, but you had good intentions.”

She steps up and hugs Derek. There, too, is a history Stiles doesn't understand, a part of Derek's past he doesn't have access to.

“And you, young man,” Talia points to him after stepping back from her son, “we should give you up to the authorities!” Stiles winces. “But you're as much a victim as anyone in this.” He breathes out in relief. “Now, there's still a lot to prepare, but you two,” she points to Derek and Stiles, “are coming with me after lunch to talk to Nana. She has a lot of connections, so we might find a way to get you out of this mess.”

 

It's when he gets back into his bedroom to get ready for lunch that Stiles forgets how to breathe for a minute -in a bad way.

Everything that happened in the morning comes crashing down on him; from the moment he saw his face on TV to Derek's lie crumbling down. Now everyone knows Stiles is a fraud and they hate him, they _hate_ him and they'll send him away and Nana will be so disappointed.

Derek won't even like him anymore. And Stiles could've unleashed a destructive AI on Oz with just the press of a button -it's really only luck that he made a mistake, a single mistake.

For now the harm is limited, thankfully, because the AI seems to just like to fight. There's probably a whole lot of much more qualified people that are handling the damage control and trying take back Oz right at this moment.

But for Stiles' brain, the stress that has been simmering under his skin all morning is let loose by his adrenaline levels coming back down. All the could've-beens and what's waiting for Stiles at the table now that everyone knows who he really is, it's just–

Too much.

He lets himself slip down against the bed until he's sitting on the floor with his back leaning on it; trying and failing to remember his breathing exercises because it's been so long since the last time he had a panic attack. And it doesn't matter that it's not the first time it's happened to him, it's still so fucking scary that he's pretty sure he's going to die and _oh god, my dad will be the last Stilinski standing I can't–_

That's when Derek's large frame appears in the doorway, opening the door without knocking like the rude wolf he is because of fucking course he heard Stiles struggling for breath. And Stiles would panic even more about that if Derek didn't step inside to sit down next to him.

“In, two, three, four,” Derek starts counting. Stiles tries and fails to follow, then tries again and again until he can match the pattern. When he can breathe with only small hiccups, he's left shivering and feeling as weak as a newborn.

“You're safe here, you know?” Derek whispers. Stiles looks up at him, and there's this look in Derek's eyes that is so intense but so hard to decipher. “We won't let anyone harm you.” A hard promise to keep, but Stiles finds himself believing it. And he realizes suddenly how close they are to each other. If he leaned in...

“They won't like me anymore–” Stiles clasps a hand on his mouth. He hadn't meant to say this out loud, sound so insecure.

Derek huffs out a confused laugh. “What? Why not?”

Stiles lets his hand fall back down on his knees and stares at it. “Because– because I'm not the amazing guy you told them I am! Because I lied to them!”

Now Derek really laughs. “Stiles,” he chastises, “Stiles, _I_ lied to them! But trust me, everyone can tell you don't need to be a freaking major in anything to be amazing.” He stops abruptly and looks away. Stiles feels his heart hammering, but before he can say anything, Derek continues. “Look, I panicked when I said those things, but– You're fine as you are, alright? And– I'm used to disappointing everyone anyway.”

Stiles breathes out a surprised, “What?” but Derek doesn't stay to answer, getting up and out in one fluid motion. He leaves Stiles alone and reeling from the interaction

He has no idea what to make of anything Derek just said. So he finishes catching his breath, shakes himself, ignores the tremors lingering in his fingers and gets up. After all, there's a great-grandmother to give explanations to, and a Christmas tree to decorate.

No time for a pity-party.

 

.oO°Oo.

 

“So you're not a Google guy?” Kira shyly asks, giving him a red and gold star to put on one of the tree's branches. Stiles can tell that she's not the only one interested in the answer, judging by the perked up ears and carefully avoiding eyes.

“Nope,” Stiles says, “but I do work with computer on Oz's maintenance.”

“What? Dude!” Scott exclaims, “That's so cool! I heard the code is super hard to use!”

Stiles chuckles. “Actually, not that much, but it _is_ spell-code so you have to be able to use basic magic. No Oz maintenance for puppies.”

“You're such an asshole,” Cora pipes up from behind the tree, but there's no heat behind the words, “we're not _puppies_.”

“Well, okay,” Stiles retorts, “Derek and Laura aren't,” Laura gives him a thumbs up from the ladder she's on to put the star on top, and Derek who keeps the ladder stable smirks, “but _you_ are younger than me and _Scott_ is barely a year-old wolfy. Ergo: puppies.”

Kira snorts and ruffles Scott's hair, “So cute when you pout, baby cousin,” she laughs.

“You're only a year older than me,” he mutters, but it quickly devolves into laughter.

“Plus,” Derek adds with a tinkle in his eyes, “it's cubs, not puppies.”

Stiles turns just in time to catch the latest MAG3 report on TV. The probe is close enough to earth that they can snap blurry but new pictures of it. Then it cuts back to Oz being almost inaccessible and millions of people losing their access to their own accounts. Stiles heart leaps into his throat, remembering the way Void had swallowed that avatar.

Before they got on with the tree, they checked in to see if anything changed in Oz. Void grew larger, taller, more vicious looking. It started messing with stuff like traffic signals and the such -nothing life-threatening yet because the authorities quickly reacted and issued warnings.

“Kids,” Talia's voices comes from one of the hallway, and then she appears. “Ah, you're here,” she says to Stiles. He realizes that in a house so full of people, even the sharpest werewolf senses might be a little thrown of. “Come with me,” she waves at him, signaling to Derek to follow suit.

Stiles gathers his courage and chases thoughts of space and AIs out of his mind.

It's time to face one of the most powerful woman of the supernatural world.

 

“Play,” Nana commands, and Stiles doesn't bother telling her that he barely understands this game since he only saw it being played three times. He sits down, swallows his nerves at being alone with the woman, and picks up the cards already in front of him.

“I understand you're a beginner at this, so I'll be considerate,” she says, but it doesn't sound like she's only talking about the game.

When the silence lingers a little, Stiles clears his throat and tries for his best level voice. “Why do you all play this game?” He's genuinely curious about it, but also gets that Nana is probably waiting for him to make the first move. So, right after he's done with the question, he puts down a card and picks it back up with the corresponding one.

“Hanafuda,” Nana starts with a soft smile, “is something I played with a dear friend. When she passed, her daughter was only a kit. Clemency took her as her own. It became a tradition after we taught the game to the whole family,” she chuckles. There's probably a lot of history behind only this simple story. “Don't you have family traditions?”

Stiles is slightly taken aback by the send back, and then he just has a hard time thinking about it with the lump that suddenly forms in his throat. Nana doesn't look at him, only makes her own move, and he's thankful for that. “We, uh...,” he starts, rubs a hand in his hair, “Not really, not anymore. Maybe watching baseball, the usual.”

She hums. He plays. “You don't seem to be one to cause trouble, Stiles,” she looks up now, her eyes boring straight into his soul, and he can't look away, “trust me when I say I've met my fair share of bad people, even among my own family. It leads me to believe you didn't have bad intentions, but I have to ask: why did you agree to this, exactly?”

Now, Stiles doesn't lie as often as his dad believes, mostly because he covers the truth up by making it seem like a badly crafted lie so when he _really_ twists reality, it flies under the radar. He wouldn't say he's good enough to fool a shifter -and these two days were only possible because Stiles played a truth like a badly crafted lie- but he at least has the nerve to try and outright bullshit people like there's no tomorrow.

Right then, though, he finds that he can't make his throat utter a single sound as it works uselessly. And when words pass by his lips, he realizes that he can't lie to this woman. “I love him.” He immediately bends down his head and bites his lip, but it's too late.

“Love doesn't necessarily mean being good to those we feel it for.”

“I know, I–” _know_ , really, Stiles does. He never doubted his mom's feelings, right until she couldn't remember she even had a son, but it can't be denied that she wasn't always– Stiles just wishes he had known her _before_. That he hadn't been so fucking young when it all started.

“I know,” he continues to distract himself, “but it didn't seem harmful and he asked and I couldn't say no.”

Suddenly, Nana smiles. “And I can see why it was you that Derek brought here. Sanko!” she declares, putting down the third card in one of her rows. “I won.” Once again, it doesn't seem like she's only talking about the game.

 

Stiles doesn't see much of anyone until dinner. While lunch was more of a grab-food-and-sit-where-you-can type of deal, it appears that as soon as the sun comes down eating becomes a serious family business.

Deucalion launches himself into an epic tale of battles and kings that their ancestors allegedly took part in, yelling from time to time stuff about demon wolves. “He loves this story, his avatar is a demonic doctor,” Cora whispers in Stiles' ear conspiratorially.

Stiles chuckles at that, but he's half distracted by his conversations with both Derek and Nana playing on a loop in his mind.

He glances at the former who looks entertained if you know him enough to know this isn't his pissed-off expression; then at the latter who is clearly amused but doesn't say anything. Derek glances his way, and smiles fondly at him. It only makes Stiles wonder more about what Derek said to him before.

Then his eyes are drawn to Peter who arrives late at dinner, phone in hand with a satisfied smile.

“Have you seen the news about Oz?” Julia asks softly to her wife, catching Stiles' attention. It's a small miracle that the woman missed the day's action, but Stiles has to admit there were so many people around that he didn't even notice her not being around.

“Yeah, we kinda were in the middle of it this morning,” Kali answers with a huff, then at Julia's questioning look she adds, “The AI responsible kicked Isaac's ass.” It's not the entire story -especially considering the AI in question isn't really mentioned in the news- but Stiles guesses it's relevant enough in context.

Isaac raises his head from where he's pushing his food around his plate. “It did _not_!” he snarls before Melissa puts a calming hand on his shoulder. “Plus,” he grumpily adds, “people online are getting together to try and find a way to beat it.”

“So very in spirit of every holiday movies ever,” Peter drawls as an insult without looking up from his phone, “but it won't work.”

“Yeah? How do you know?” Isaac spits.

Peter finally looks up. “Because I created it.”

There's a pause.

“You...you _created_ Void?” Laura asks for confirmation with barely concealed distaste, frowning.

“Well...yeah,” Peter shrugs, but Stiles doesn't miss the there-and-gone murderous glare he directs at his niece.

 

“It was very simple,” Peter explains in the shocked silence, contempt dripping from his every words. “I infused a program with the desire to learn, and it loves it. I just sold Void to the military when they offered good money on the only condition that they get to test it.” He looks up from his glass of wine to stare into nothingness. “I couldn't have known they'd use Oz for that,” he adds, careless. “But it's strong enough now that no team-up will defeat it.”

“Do you have any idea what kind of damage it's already done?” Melissa whispers, one hand on her belly like she needs to protect it from Peter himself.

Stiles tilts his head curiously. The TV has been off the rest of the day and no one has talked about anything related in the mean time. “Her boyfriend is an EMT, he was supposed to be here already,” Cora says to Stiles, “he called while you were with Nana to say they had too much work to do because of the issues with Oz. He's not the only one, too,” she finishes, and Stiles realizes that none of the in-laws are here at all.

“Look,” Peter says with a roll of his eyes, “I just developed it. It's not like this has anything to do with me.”

“You think it has _nothing_ to do with _you_?” Valerie punctuates her shout by slamming her fists on the table and making the glasses rattle. “How can you _say_ that when you–”

“Hey there, are you _deaf_ ,” Peter starts to get worked up too. “Last I remember, this family had a strict policy of not blaming _people_ ,” he directs his glare on Derek, who stiffens and clenches his fists under the table, “for their mistakes.”

The silence then is so absolute Stiles' ears ring. Stiles glances at Derek worriedly, opens his mouth to say anything to comfort him even if he has no idea what this is about.

“Are you _serious_ right now, Peter?” Laura seethes. “You can't compare–”

“Stop it,” Derek only murmurs, but it's enough to cut his sister short. “Stop fighting tonight.” When he looks up, his face is contorted in what could be anger or hatred, but it's unclear who it's directed at. Himself, or his uncle. Stiles can't stop himself this time, and before he has time to consciously stop, his hand is on one of Derek's. They study each other for a moment, and Derek takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. When he opens them again, he's looking less on the edge of losing it, though he only manages a flicker of a smile.

“Peter,” Nana's voice rings clear in the quiet. Stiles looks back at the table.

“Nana, you understand, right?” Peter asks, and gone is the nonchalance. There's desperation in his voice. “I'm honestly sorry for the trouble, but I worked hard to come back without shame. I wanted you proud, and see?” he holds his phone out, “They're buying it! I'll give you your money back! I– I'll make the family name shine again! I couldn't have done it without you!”

“How can you say that to your grandmother, after what you did behind her back?” Clemency whispers, and Stiles is thrown by the realization of how silent she has been this whole time. “Do you really think we'll thank you for getting back the money you _stole_ by causing this chaos?” A tear falls down her cheek.

The way everyone looks away from the pain of a mother means that no one sees Nana coming. She gets up and it's only because someone shouts, “look out!” that Peter avoids the claws that were aiming for his face. Nana, half shifted, stands over him.

“On your feet. Don't make us more ashamed of you,” she declares around fangs. Stiles is petrified. “Don't you make your own mother cry anymore than she did all these years you abandoned your family and your own _daughter_.”

Malia, who Stiles had honestly forgotten, has her face safely tucked in the crook of Laura's neck. The kid has her tiny fists clenched tight in her cousin's shirt.

“I shouldn't have come back,” Peter snarls, his eyes briefly flashing before he gets up and stomps out of the room.

Nana breathes hard for a second as she shifts back. Then she looks around the table. “Alright. Let's get to work to clean up our family's messes.”

 

As it turns out, the mess in Oz had new consequences in the real world over the course of the afternoon.

Traffic signals are still all over the place, and the traffic jams are getting worse. But more alarming than that, the medical monitoring service is sending false alerts from everywhere, forcing the emergency services to go from place to place to be sure not to miss on any real, life-threatening incident.

It doesn't stop at that either; it's trains, planes, banks, stock market and GPS. Oz, when it's seen on HD rendition of its 3D interface, is disturbingly reminiscent of the ruins of a town after a tsunami.

For now, there's no casualties, nothing more serious than two cars bumping into each other at low speed. But the fact that the cars still crashed even if it's not too serious shows the possibilities. Void is an honest-to-god apocalyptic-movie kind of AI.

The TV doesn't talk about the military's involvement. And it makes so much more sense now why they used as a scapegoat to cover up their asses. Still, why it had to fall on Stiles is still a mystery.

 _God_ , his dad. He only texted him, but now he really needs to hear his voice.

Stiles goes back to his bedroom in a daze, and dials the familiar number.

“Kiddo?” the voice comes through, immediately making Stiles' mind slow down.

“Hey, dad,” he hoarsely answers. “I'm okay,” he adds. And it's mostly true, more than usual with this kind of affirmation anyway. He just has a long story to tell.

 

It takes some time, but with the way dinner has been shortened it's not really that late when Stiles gets off the phone with his dad. The end of it mostly consisted in reassuring the Sheriff that, no, Stiles doesn't need him to come pick him up; not even considering the fact that they are in the middle of supernatural territory -inaccessible by normal means- Stiles doesn't want to leave before seeing to the end of this.

After the call he gets out, needing some fresh air after the day he just had, and finds his way though the house mostly in one try.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees Derek through the french doors, sitting outside in the faint light coming from the living room. He pokes his head through the windows.

“Hey,” he says softly, not wanting to disturb the peace. Derek half turns, offering Stiles a small smile. He looks tired, and only gestures at Stiles to offer a seat.

“Quite the evening, huh?” Stiles chuckles awkwardly. He doesn't really know what to say, how to comfort Derek. In this moment, the man looks much younger than his twenty-three years, smaller than the consequential muscle mass he probably developed working with his hands more than doing sports.

“I'm sorry you had to be in the middle of this,” Derek says, and what breaks Stiles heart more than anything else is the fact that the Derek he met at the station is nowhere to be seen: snarky, bordering on assholish. Quite like Stiles, but with more of a cutting edge. More silently than with words.

“No, no, it's okay. I kinda like it,” he says, then glances at Derek and quickly corrects himself, “well, the family kind of chaos anyway, not the everyone's-gonna-die thing,” he chuckles. Derek huffs out a laugh and it feels like a small victory.

“Do you think...,” Derek starts after a pause, hesitating and visibly bracing himself to continue. “Do you think someone who didn't know...what the consequences of their actions would be...isn't responsible for it?”

Stiles blinks, opening his mouth to answer with a thoughtless cliché; but then he realizes this might be about more than just Peter and takes time to think about it.

“I think it depends,” he says, looking away from Derek to think. “My mom– no scratch that,” he mutters to himself after stopping himself, because he doesn't really want to talk about that, relevant or not. “I think Peter knew what could happen and chose to ignore it in favor of what he'd gain.” He doesn't say more, since he has no clear idea of the real reason for Derek asking. It's definitely not about the whole fake-fiancé business, that much Stiles is sure about.

“When I was younger,” Derek haltingly says, a minute later, “I fell in love and–” The words stay stuck in his throat, and Stiles turns to face him.

“Hey,” he whispers, puts a tentative hand on Derek's shoulder.

“I almost got my family killed,” Derek chokes out before Stiles can utter any meaningless reassurances. There's a heavy silence.

“Look, Derek,” Stiles says at last, “I don't have the whole story here, and you don't have to tell me anything, tonight or ever. But from what I can understand, I can assure you whatever happened wasn't your fault. Your family doesn't think so, and let me tell you: you aren't anything like that cree– Peter,” he corrects himself. It does get a faint laugh out of Derek. “Being lied to and manipulated is never your fault, okay?”

Derek doesn't say anything, but he swallows hard and nods. Then raises a shaking hand to put it on Stiles', causing his heart to pound inside of his ribcage. How can Derek not hear that?

“Thanks,” Derek says after a while, pulling himself back together. “Peter definitely is creepy,” he adds as an afterthought to alleviate the atmosphere. It doesn't quite work, but Stiles is willing to pretend.

“Yeah, that whole evil mastermind vibe? I mean he only needs a mustachio and he'd be straight out of ' _the darkest timeline'_ ,” Stiles exaggerates the last part and overplays the air quotes around it, making Derek's shoulder shake in silent laughter.

After that, the conversation is easy; and if they take their hands off of Derek's shoulder, they don't quite let go of each other. It's cold outside, but for the time they spend sitting there and talking, they don't really feel it. Or they just don't want to break the moment quite yet.

 

Stiles thought the day before had been hell. He really isn't prepared for the reality of being awakened at dawn by the sound of running footsteps and quiet shouts.

He isn't prepared for the first death caused by Void, however indirectly: medical monitoring failing.

Christmas turns into mourning; and Stiles, despite it all, is surprised to find how much it hurts to lose someone he knew for only two days. Maybe he became part of this family after all, nothing fake about it.

Maybe all he can do is swallow that pain because it's nothing compared to Derek's, and he need to be strong for him.

So he sits there, as the sun slowly comes out from behind the trees, and when Derek asks, “Hold my hand,” he holds his hand. “Make them stop,” Derek croaks out. “Make the tears stop, please,” he begs. But Stiles, no matter how hard he wishes it, can't spare Derek this pain.

It's three days before Christmas, the world has been overturned by the loss of Oz because of an AI called Void created by Peter Hale. People owing favors to the Hale family have been called in during the night, started taking more focused measures to fix things. All thanks to one woman, head of one of the biggest families in the supernatural world.

And today, she's dead.

Nana is gone.

 

Somewhere in the depth of Oz, Void turns around. It sees people making meaningless attempts at stopping it, but a little bit more efficient than before. One name is mentioned. To that name is attached a symbol.

Inside a circle, there's a triskel. Void recognizes it.

It tilts its virtual head and smirks viciously. It'll be watchful of those Hales. If they try anything...it'll be ready.

 

Stiles learns a lot about shifters intra-family politics in one day. He barely listens though, to the talks of Alpha rights and inheritance and legacies. All he gets is that Talia is in charge of basically everything; she's been the Alpha for years, but Nana still had a big influence on any decisions and now that she's gone, her share passes on to Clemency.

So he's surprised, to say the least, when Valerie plants herself in front of him, pulling him out of his mind, hands on her hips and determination in her eyes.

“We still got work to do,” she announces. Stiles has nothing else he can do except get up and follow her. “Talia has the funeral to take care of with the others. She asked me to take charge of finishing what Nana started. We're going to stop that son of a bitch AI.”

Valerie stops at the door to a secondary living room Stiles has only seen in passing. Inside, there's the Hale siblings and their cousins, Kali and her wife, Ennis, and Melissa. The toddlers are there too.

Stiles can't help the sting in his eyes, but he sure does stop himself from crying. “What do we do?”

Laura grins. “Prepare plans A to Z of crushing the bastard. And then, crush the fucking bastard.”

 

“Hey, dickhead!” King Yitshaq yells, earning Isaac a slap on the back of the head by his mother. “Sorry,” he mutters, before turning his attention back to the screen where Void is slowly turning to him.

The AI doesn't only look vicious and ten times bigger than during the last encounter they had, but also more focused. They all shudder. It's going to be tough.

Behind them, Stiles can hear the faint hum of the supercomputer someone gave Ennis to install this morning. He doesn't question how they got access to it, though it's no more mysterious than the large supply of ice blocks they're using to avoid overheating issues or the truck outside providing them a top-notch internet output.

Void takes the bait and jumps so high it's lucky they have four screens to track its movements. Yitshaq raises his arms to block the hit, and when it comes the ground cracks under the avatar's feet. Then he starts running.

Meanwhile, Stiles' squirrel watches from afar, Derek's half-wolf seventeenth century writer by his side. Stiles tries not to think about it too much, especially how he finds it both desperately cute and absolutely hot. Also, he really needs to ask about it.

Once the way is clear, the squirrel runs to some hidden panel only moderators can access directly inside Oz. It's not the only one, but after a thorough look it appears to be the only one left intact by Void. Stiles gets in, and pastes the code that will allow their plan to work. He really hopes there's no glitch in it, because it's supposed to do a _lot_ of things, and he didn't have that much time to spell-code it.

He signals to Laura and Valerie; their avatars are in another place so they're doing their part on their phone. The tiny cop and the squid ninja -he also needs to ask about _that_ \- connect the hose that just appeared in their menu to the dry riser that materialized on the wall, and they wait for the second signal.

Yitshaq is alternating between fighting -getting his ass kicked, really, meaning Isaac yells a lot in frustration- and running away so Void doesn't get suspicious and continues following him.

Everyone else is looking for now, encouraging. Melissa looks proud, sitting next to her son even if she doesn't participate in the main plan: her turtle nurse avatar is standing ready in a safe area with fast patches Stiles gave to her in case of avatar issues.

On screen, Void is close to where they want it. Yitshaq flies through a new door and right into Oz's decorative cat head standing at the center of the virtual world.

Void hesitates. They all hold their breath, even the kids who aren't even allowed to sign into their accounts at the moment. Then it flies in after Yitshaq.

“It's in!” Isaac declares, before quickly flying out of there. Houses appear all over the exterior at one press of a key by Stiles; they're turning the thing into a fortress, a plan inspired by one of Deucalion's mad family tales.

Out of all the houses, only six have doors on top of the one Yitshaq just used. Scott's BMX rider - _for the last time, it's not Daft Punk_ \- closes the first one, followed closely by Kira's katana yielding fox. According to Cora, she's a scary ass-kicker in real life, and after seeing Cora's avatar -a Lara Croft lookalike but with boxing gloves instead of hands- Stiles has to ask himself if everyone in this family is some kind of badass martial artist.

The teen's avatar closes her own door, and then it's Ennis' salesman's turn. Kali's tiger. The second to last one is closed by Julia's bespectacled teacher.

Then, with one last long look, Yitshaq closes the biggest one, locking it before Void has the time to reach it after flying around to try and get through the other ones.

The signal is sent. Water floods the hollow space inside the cat's head.

They wo–

 _Error_.

“What?” Isaac whispers, shocked out of his victorious feelings.

 _Error_. Again and again the message pops up, across the multiple screens.

“What?” Ennis echoes, before getting up and opening the door to the room with the computer in it. The heat makes him scramble back, and Stiles can feel it all the way to where he's sitting. The ice blocks are gone.

They get rid of the error windows. On screen, the cat head twists and swings madly. Void explodes from it in a gigantic form of itself, a smirking fox head in place of the one Stiles chose for his avatar before it was hacked.

All of it is oddly silent, no pre-existing sound made up for that kind of virtual event. But the mad laugh, though. It booms through the speakers in a over-saturated crackle, makes their bones rattle.

Void reaches out and this time, Isaac can't move Yitshaq fast enough. The best fighter of the year is swallowed up in the swirling mass of lost accounts making up the AI's massive body. Void wins this round.

The shocked silence lasts for a long minute in the room, while outside of it they can faintly hear Ennis ripping Jackson a new one for taking the ice blocks.

“It's for Nana! I'm not the one playing a stupid game _today_ ,” comes muffled through the walls. The slaps that follows makes them all jump. It also breaks Isaac from his daze, because he suddenly starts crying, hitting the keyboard with both fists.

“I lost,” he sobs, a high pitched whining following his words, “I couldn't even protect my family.” Stiles looks away, wishing they could give the kid a semblance of privacy when he hugs his mother tightly and Scott drapes himself over the both of them.

But they don't have time.

They need plan B.

 

But plan B is shot through hell when most of the screens freeze and show a countdown. On the central one, there's a live report: MAG3 was supposed to enter the final stage of its descent back to earth.

Well it's entering its final stage alright.

“The MAG3 appears to be remotely controlled via one of the hacked Oz accounts, and isn't slowing down like it should” a news reporter announces frantically.

“Oz's accounts are now widely used a digital platform for every aspect of life, be it for games or work,” another answers, “and it seems that the AI responsible for all the chaos in OZ these past two days is using one to control the MAG3.”

The first one lets a small silence pass, then declares in a slightly trembling voice, “I just received news that the MAG3's direction has also been altered. It's heading straight for a nuclear power station. We'll stop our current report to roll the security measures you and your family should take.”

The TV cuts the news off, but an image of MAG3 is still shown.

Stiles looks at Derek. It's only when Derek looks down after glancing back at him that Stiles realizes...well. They're holding hands tight apparently.

 

 _It loves games_ , they think.

 _Lets give it games, then_.

Derek's avatar walks inside the casino area. Raises a hand.

 _Player 1: Derek ; challenges player 2: Void ; game: Hanafuda Koi Koi. Player 1, place your wager._ the voice for the area demands.

“I wager the family's accounts,” Derek says.

 _Accept?_ The word blinks and blinks, waiting. Someone mutters prayers for the AI to take the new bait.

_Challenge to a game of Hanafuda Koi Koi accepted by player 2._

“Please Nana, protect Derek, protect the family,” Valerie prays in a whisper.

_Pot double each time koi koi is declared. Last player scoring gains all points from that hand. Draw a card._

Derek clicks.

 _Derek has drawn the better card. Player 1:_ _begin_.

 

Stiles barely looks at the screen while Derek plays. Every member of the family present screams for the next move he should make, but Stiles only has eyes for Derek's focused face. He looks beautiful, trying to save their family -and the world.

“Koi koi!” they scream at once after the voice announces akatan.

“Shut up!” Derek hisses through his teeth, but Ennis shouts over him, “The Hales have played this game for years! You won't beat them you stupid robot!”

 _Transfering fourty-nine accounts to Derek_.

It goes on and on, small to big wins of each hand but the number of retrieved accounts still rises and doubles each time. Stiles checks through the list but the one they're aiming for still isn't there. Void gets smaller the more accounts he loses.

_Hanami; koi koi?_

“No...,” Derek breathes out, frozen, eyes wide.

_Opponent doesn't declare koi koi, transferring accounts to player 2._

Next to Derek's name, the millions of accounts won back decreases endlessly. Until there's only seventy left. It's not enough. Void cackles, growing big again.

 _Player 1 doesn't have sufficient fund for minimum bet._ The words cancel and continue both blink on screen, taunting them. There's only fifteen minutes left, and they lost anyway.

 

A miracle. A small avatar pops out. The words translate with a few errors due to the service still being repaired, but it's understandable.

“I give you my account,” the bubble over the avatar's head reads, “you can use it to play. Please, win and save us.”

“It's a girl from Japan.”

And then, one after the other, avatars appear all around them, a whole crowd. “Use my account!” they seem to say in unison. People who haven't been hacked show up from all over the world. The number next to Derek's name rises again.

 _The guardians gift Derek with rare items_. A light on screen, like a star exploding, and Derek appears as a majestic wolf-man in a golden robe, feather-pen in hand and red eyes glowing.

He raises his head like a king and selects _continue_.

“Last hand,” Derek snarls, and leans against Stiles for a second. Stiles places his hand on Derek's shoulder like the night before.

The cards flow in a dance Stiles can't quite follow.

A card with a moon completes one row.

_Ame-shiko, koi koi?_

“Koi koi!” the family yells.

“Koi koi!” the whole world yells.

“Koi koi,” Derek says like a prayer, and clicks the button. Void plays for nothing. Derek takes up the card he's been anxiously looking at.

 _Hanami, Tsukimi_ , _player 1 wins the hand_. _Pot doubles_.

Next to player 2, the numbers descend again, faster than earlier because it's all at once. Void shrinks with it in a matter of seconds, an enraged howl playing through the speakers while it does. Then, it's down to three accounts.

“Do we have it?” Valerie cries urgently. Stiles checks and double checks with the search engine but–

“We don't,” Laura whispers for him. Void chuckles again. With a move of its hand, something changes on the TV screen displaying the countdown -five minutes- and showing MAG3. Where there was a nuclear plant before shown through the targeting system of the probe, now there's...

“Is that...?”

“That's...”

“Us.”

As one, they look outside. They can't see it but they can feel it as lead in their stomachs. MAG3 is falling right on them.

 

“Plan Z,” Stiles declares in a small trembling voice, drown out by he shouts of alarm of the others.

“What?” Derek says, already half up and trying to drag Stiles' with him.

“Plan Z. Leave, I'll try to...,” he doesn't finish, already getting to work. He taps furiously at the keyboard to go through Oz's shortcuts.

“What are you doing?” Laura asks.

“Void, yesterday,” Stiles answers, “messed up the global GPS system. MAG3's targeting system is using something similar so I'll just have to get in and...,” he trails off, “Ha! Gotcha!” He's at the front door, and now all he needs is to access Oz's main system, the one Void hacked with the answer to the riddle-spell.

The key to Oz. To getting back access.

“What are you doing, we need to leave!” Valerie screams at them when she sees the three of them stopping. Stiles is already trying but–

“Fuck! He changed it!” He accesses the encrypted spell-code. He'll solve it again. “Leave,” he repeats, but Derek sits down next to him.

“I'll stay with you, I'll change the coordinates in the GPS as soon as you get me inside” he all but snarls, his turn now to put his hand on Stiles' shoulder to show support. Stiles doesn't know what to do of this: Derek staying when there's a ninety-nine percent chance they'll both die.

And then Laura shouts over every one else, “Stiles is trying something!”

The storm calms down right when Stiles takes some paper laying around and starts furiously writing.

“Done!” He types in the new password. He's in. It goes down again. “Shit! He changed it!”

He writes and writes again, wrist burning with the strain. “Done,” he hisses, as he types again. He can't even form words when it goes down again, just yells incoherently.

He doesn't have time. He looks at the encryption.

“Is he...?” Isaac asks reverently. “Is he solving it...in his head?”

“Get him boy!” a new voice shouts from the doors, the entire family now gathered in the living room.

Stiles presses the first key. One by one, he types it in.

“One minute left!”

“I'll distract the fucker,” Isaac shouts, earning him yet another slap on the back of the head.

Stiles presses enter.

“He's in!”

“I've got access!” Derek exclaims from his side, and types quickly a new set of coordinates.

It's not enough to get it really far but at least it won't fall on the house.

They look out the window just in time for a bright flash to blind them.

Then for a while, it's only darkness.

 

“Hot spring!”

“A geyser!”

“A hot spring geyser!”

“The star made a hot spring!”

 

.oO°Oo.

 

 _And maybe every once in a while_  
_You give my grandma a reason to smile_  
 _'Tis the season to smile_  
 _It's cold but we'll be freezing in style_

“So...,” Derek drawls out almost too low for Stiles to hear over all the singing. He's pretty sure his dad is the loudest, but he doesn't blame the man: it's been a while since they had this much fun at Christmas.

Stiles looks at this family and thinks that, maybe, he knows what he wants to be after he finishes his training with Deaton.

“So?” Stiles asks back.

“We saved the world,” Derek grins, relaxed in a way Stiles isn't sure he really has seen before. It suits him.

“We sure did,” Stiles confirms, laughing. “And if we hadn't...I'm glad you were with me,” he adds more seriously. The intensity in Derek's eyes at hearing those words could make Stiles spontaneously combust.

“Yeah...me too.”

“Come on you nerds,” Laura calls, more than a little tipsy with warm mistletoe liquor. “Kiss already!”

“Keep poisoning yourself on that drink so we don't have to hear you, dumbass,” Derek calls back, and Stiles has to admit that it's kind of a dangerous thing to drink, even tampered with a lot of magic.

The Christmas spirit, or something?

“Yippee ki-yay, m–” the rest is muffled behind Talia's hand as she keeps her daughter from swearing (too much) in front of the kids.

“Sorry about that,” Derek turns back to Stiles, who runs a hand on the back of his neck nervously.

“No, don't be,” he chuckles, “it's...it's actually really nice.” He turns a soft smiles Derek's way, surprised to see it mirrored already.

“I'm happy I decided to bring my fake fiancé home,” Derek says, and for a second Stiles feels his heart constrict a little in his chest. Fake, yeah. Absolutely. But then Derek clears his throat and adds, “but I was thinking.”

“Yeah?” Stiles breathlessly prompts when Derek takes a too long pause.

“Maybe for Christmas I'd like to get a real boyfriend.”

Stiles is speechless for a second, finding Derek's embarrassment quite unbelievable when you know the tough guy he can appear to be.

“I mean–” Derek starts again, shoulders slumping.

“Yes!” Stiles doesn't let him finish. “Uh, I mean, if it's _me_ you mean, then yes! I'd like that too!”

“No, I meant your dad,” Derek rolls his eyes.

Stiles blanks out for a whole second because of the horrifying image that just invoked before barking out a laugh. “Please, never say that ever again,” he pleads. “Is that a 'all I want for Christmas is you, Stiles', then?” he playfully makes sure.

“Yeah,” Derek concedes like it's nothing.

Stiles smirks and licks his lips, grinning even more when he sees Derek tracking the move.

“Merry Christmas then, Derek.” Stiles leans closer and, softly, puts his lips on Derek's. There's cheers in the background that Stiles elects to ignore.

Derek is breathless when they break apart, so it takes him a full minute to whisper back, “Merry Christmas.”

And that, Stiles thinks when he looks into Derek's gorgeous eyes, might be what his mom really meant when she said,

o _ne day, sweetheart, one day, you'll see. The sky will come and meet you._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to everyone who leaves kudos AND comments <3


End file.
